


A Viking

by NotManTheLessButNatureMore



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Panic Attacks, description of panic attack, uncle Stick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotManTheLessButNatureMore/pseuds/NotManTheLessButNatureMore
Summary: A trip to the IWM. But this is me. So, angst.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 50





	A Viking

“Oi, wait at the lights?” Strike shouted down the road at Jack who had taken off at speed once the Imperial War Museum had come into sight.

“It’s lovely seeing him so excited.” Robin said cheerfully, the Yorkshire coming through strongly in the ‘lovely’, as she shielded her eyes from the sun to watch Jack grab the traffic lights pole as he came to a sudden stop.

“Tenner says we lose him the minute he gets through the door.” Strike replied, glancing at Robin’s bare shoulder while she searched in her bag for something.

“Tenner says you complain about the cost of what he wants in the gift shop.” She challenged him with a cheeky smile.

“Firstly, gift shops are overpriced. Everyone knows that. And secondly, it’s Greg’s money he’s spending so he can buy whatever he wants.”

“And you’re not gonna cave and buy him some toy replica he’s desperate for after he’s already spent his money?”

“You saying I’m going soft Ellacott?” Strike feigned insult as they arrived at the traffic lights.

While Jack waited impatiently a few metres from the Gothic church on the corner, Strike felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly as the summery feel of the day seemed enhanced by the light reflecting off the smooth concrete of the path and the white building up ahead that he recalled was once the Royal South London Dispensary. He turned his attention to the greenery of the museum’s garden across from them as Robin pulled a bottle of water from her bag and drank.

Much to Jack’s dismay there were two more pedestrian lights to get past but once through the gates his face lit up as a pair of massive 15-inch naval guns seemed to stretch right out of the building’s facade, ready to attack any approaching enemy.

“Look at that!” Jack turned to Robin who dutifully looked just as impressed.

“Can I touch them uncle Stick?” Jack squealed excitedly as he moved forwards but Strike’s attention was elsewhere. 

To the right of the building lay gardens where small groups, pairs, and lone figures enjoyed the midday sun but what caught Strike’s eye was an area to the front where the grass had been covered with flooring so as not to be damaged by the temporary army vehicles parked there. A few tourists hovered about while excited kids knocked on bulletproof glass and a group of military enthusiasts took pictures. A Viking sat parked at the back, one that looked exactly like the vehicle Strike had stepped into that fateful day with all limbs intact.

“Please can we go look?” Jack asked hopefully, already moving towards the vehicles as he looked from Strike to Robin.

Robin, as if sensing the sudden change in Strike’s demeanor, turned back towards the museum entrance.

“Why don’t we-“

“You can show me what everything does.” Jack announced enthusiastically as he reached out to take a hold of Strike’s wrist in order to drag him towards the vehicles.

“They’ll still be here after we go inside.” Robin tried again with a smile but Jack was already hurrying towards the first vehicle, a camo printed jeep with all the doors open and a child already crawling around the front seat.

“I can-“ Robin began but Strike cut her off with a tight smile.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

* * *

Earlier, Strike had scoffed at the backpack full of supplies Lucy insisted Jack bring with him. Inside it contained everything needed for both a heatwave and a snow storm, the chances of the latter slim in central London in May, and Strike had just about stopped himself from reminding her about all the times they had found themselves killing hours walking around London with nothing but the clothes on their back when they were his age. Right now though he was thankful as Jack had searched through his bag and pulled out a small military history book which he was now pleasantly occupied with as he tried to match the vehicles in front of them to the ones in the colourful children’s book. Strike bitterly though to himself that the book didn’t seem to mention the damage some of the larger equipped vehicles could do to people or whole villages.

Robin herself had wandered off and appeared to be admiring a jeep a few metres away and Strike smiled to himself at the thought of her easily handling many of the vehicles there.

“Oh, yes.” Jack exclaimed to himself as Strike watched Robin’s dress flutter against her curves in the breeze. His eyes moved upwards as a smiling man in fatigues rounded the side of the vehicle and said something with a nod towards the jeep.

“Jack, come on. Next one.” Strike said, hoping to usher Jack on closer to where Robin was, now laughing and nodding along to something the man had said. Strike felt his good mood disappear.

“Jack, I’m serious, come on-“ Strike turned to where Jack had just been, bag dumped on the ground by his feet as well as the contents of it that had got in the way of retrieving his book, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit!” Strike muttered to himself as he quickly looked through the windows of the vehicle nearest but only saw a pensioner posing for a photo. Lucy’s angry face immediately came to mind and Strike inwardly groaned knowingly he’d never hear the end of it if he lost her son.

“Jack?” Strike called and quickly made a loop around the nearest vehicle. He began walking between the lines of jeeps and combat vehicles, his eyes darting around at every boy about Jack’s height with dark hair, of which there suddenly seemed dozens. His knee complained as his pace quickened and he called Jack’s name again.

“Cormoran?” Robin’s voice called from a distance but Strike didn’t turn, instead shouting ‘ _I can’t see Jack_ ’ to her with only a glance in her direction as he quickened his pace again. A mother nearby frowned and then turned, no doubt checking the location of her own children.

Strike looked back towards the open space where the big naval guns were and the gates that they had originally entered through. Suddenly every adult looked like a would-be kidnapper and Strike felt his stomach drop at the thought of calling Lucy. Turning back, the vehicles all sand coloured now where the others had been green camouflage, his breath hitched when he saw Jack’s bag on the ground beside a familiar armoured vehicle.

“Jack?” Strike called as he walked closer to the Viking but no sound came from the vehicle.

His eyes immediately began roaming up and down the tough exterior as the familiar sharp edges looked like a child’s overgrown toy. He knew the vulnerable spots now, could imagine glass shattering where it shouldn’t shatter and steel twisting where it shouldn’t twist. His breath shuddered in his chest as he looked down to where he knew the vulnerable shell underneath was. His mind replayed an article he had read in the months after his accident and the phrases ‘low ground pressure’, ‘no v-shaped hull’, and ‘vulnerable to improvised explosive devices’ seemed to echo around his head.

“Jack!” Strike called again as he rounded the back of the vehicle where the doors were wide open. Inside seemed darker than it should be and Strike could just make out a pair of legs at the front end of the cab. He stepped up into the back of the Viking with his prosthetic foot first and had to grab the door frame to stop himself from overbalancing.

“Jack!” Strike called and his shoulders sagged when the little boy leaning over the front seats with his legs nearly off the ground turned back and it was Jack.

“You can’t- you can’t run off like that.” Strike began, feeling suddenly out of breath.

“I told you.” Jack said quietly and continued to reach towards something in the front.

“Come on.” Strike said, one hand pressed against the side of the vehicle and his back bent at an odd angle due to his height. He thought he felt movement, as if something had pushed against the side of the vehicle and he swallowed and tried to expand his tightening chest.

“Jack?” Strike called again more firmly but his nephew wasn’t listening, instead trying to reach for something in the front of the cab near the steering wheel.

“Jack, stop.”

Strike moved further inside and immediately regretted it as the Viking seemed to close in around him. The desert jeep parked in front of them made it appear as though there was nothing but sand beyond the windscreen. Strike took a step back as Jack’s hand reached for the numerous controls on the driver’s side.

_Brake._

“Look, unc-“

_Brake._

“Jack-“

_Brake._

“Cormoran?”

_Brake._

The panic came forward without any input from Strike.

He fled the Viking amid the smell of burning and the taste of iron in his mouth just before the dizziness hit. He couldn’t breathe fast enough and a sense of doom descended, as if some unknown but terrifying thing was hunting him down and about to pounce.

There was movement in his periphery but nothing there. The sun was bearing down on him and all he could see was sand. Sand and grass and smiling children, the tight feeling of his prosthetic where there should be nothing at all, twisted metal and naval guns and then a weight was pressing down on Strike’s shoulders.

Suddenly Robin was beside him and then Jack. Then a pain thumping into his chest and his legs felt weak.

_Legs._

“Cormoran?”

_Not happening._

“Unc-“

_You’re not there. It’s not happening, you’re safe. You’re not there, it’s not-_

Strike’s legs carried him away and distantly the thought occurred to him that everything was fine, that he really was safe and that it really wasn’t happening again, but there was something else at work in his body, as if a switch had been flipped that he couldn’t now stop. His hands shook and it felt like static was running through his arms and legs.

His shoulder thumped into something hard as a muffled voice announced it’s displeasure and suddenly he was reminded of Nick walking away from a restaurant with him, his hand on his shoulder as Strike tried to navigate crutches, rain soaked streets and panic. Then, it had been the smell of saffron, orange peel, and almonds during dessert that had sent him fleeing.

_“Tell me what you see.”_ Nick had said as they stood in a quiet side street in Soho while Strike leaned, sweating, against the grubby wall. And so, instead of images of the desert, Strike had described the street in front of him; office workers heading home late, red lights catching the lightly falling rain as cars sat in traffic, the cracked manhole to the left of Nick’s foot. The panicked tunnel vision that clouded his mind had suddenly widened as he was forced to notice more of the world around him. 

Taking as deep a breath as he could Strike began searching the area in front of him.

_W- woman. Woman. Tall. Yellow dress. Boy. Jumper. Written, something written... something written on his jumper. Boy is Jack’s age. Jack._

Strike squeezed his eyes shut as an image of Jack watching him with wide eyes inside the Viking flashed into his mind.

_Tr- tree. Grass. Blanket. Picnic. Couple. Forties. Ring. Engagement ring. Charlotte. Bed. Hospit-_

“Fuck.” Strike muttered to himself, not noticing the man sitting up straighter as he watched him from the grassy area full of people enjoying the afternoon sun.

_Bench. Woman. Book. Alone. Bag. Coffee cup. Denim jacket. Wall. Grey._

Strike’s breath hitched as he ran into a dead end where the side of the building and bushes merged into a gated staff-only area. He turned but was stuck between the side of the museum, the woman sitting on the bench and the grassy area where he caught the eye of a man warily watching him.

_It’s not happening. You’re not there. You’re safe, it’s not happening, you’re not there._

“Cormoran?”

Robin appeared in his line of sight, closer than he wanted her and so sudden he hadn’t heard or seen her approach. She reached a hand out and it hovered near his elbow, her lips moved but everything was muffled apart from the crowd enjoying the army display whose disjointed noises sounded too loud for Strike’s nerves to contend with.

“Hm?” He replied, but he wasn’t sure if the words made it out of his mouth. He flinched as Robin’s hand softly took his elbow and then she was leading him back towards the bench, now empty, and he dropped down onto it gratefully.

Moments passed. Robin’s hand was still on his elbow and Strike felt the gentleness of it. The sun felt even warmer, beads of sweat were dripping down his back, and a bone weary tiredness drifted over him as his breathing slowed.

“Where’s Jack?” He asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“In a long queue for a sugary tea.” Robin said, pointing towards the van at the far end of the green space selling drinks and cakes. Strike looked and saw Jack gripping something tight against his chest, probably Robin’s money, Strike thought. The boy looked back and then half raised his hand with the intention of waving before the queue moved forward.

“Tea won’t be-“

“-Strong enough, I know. But a sugary tea always helps.” Robin said, leaning closer to him with a soft smile.

“Want to talk about it?” Robin asked after a few more moments, Jack having moved up two spaces in the queue. 

Strike huffed a tight laugh as he was reminded of them sitting on a roadside together not that long ago.

“I haven’t...” Strike stopped and took a deep breath, his shoulders and chest still feeling tense. “I haven’t, well, I haven’t been inside one, since. Obviously.”

“I guessed.” Robin said gently.

“I should...” Strike nodded towards Jack’s direction.

“He’s fine. I’m sure Lucy has told him more than enough horror stories about going off with strangers.” Robin said as she watched Jack approach the open hatch of the van.

“Well, I’m fine now so-“ Strike stopped when Robin raised an eyebrow.

“I am.” He protested, although he knew he probably looked ashen and he still felt the lingering sense of panic hovering nearby.

“I thought we’d both agreed to be more honest with each other.” She stated, her shoulder briefly bumping his affectionately.

“Not when it comes to looking a right twat at a family friendly army display.” Strike said, meaning to joke but a frown came to his face at the annoyance he felt towards himself.

“You’re not a twat. It’s hard, I know if I had to... go back to that stairwell, I’d probably react the way you just did.”

Strike looked sideways at Robin. Beautiful, reassuring, sensible Robin. The one who always seemed capable of grounding him no matter what storm he was facing.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean it. I’m glad...”

_I’m glad you’re here, with me. I’m glad you’re my best mate. I’m glad you arrived at the office when you did and I’m glad for some reason you’ve chosen to stick around._

“You’re glad?”

“I’m glad you’re in my life.” He said and squeezed her hand, now resting between them on the bench.

“Me too.”

“I got the tea and I forgot how many sugars you said Robin so I just took these.” Jack explained sounding anxious and hurrying towards them with tea in one hand, a small brown paper bag tucked between his elbow and side, and a fistful of sugar packets.

“That looks perfect Jack.” Robin said, taking the tea and sugar from him and ripping open the first packet.

“Are you alright uncle Stick?” Jack asked quietly as he sat down on the bench.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“I’m sorry for running off. I told you, but, maybe I didn’t say it loud enough. I was just excited when I saw the others and-“

“It’s okay.” Strike interrupted.

“-and I’ve never seen a Viking in real life and uncle Ted showed me pictures once and-“

“Jack, it’s okay.” Strike repeated.

“Really?” The boy asked, a slight wince on his face.

“Yes. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Okay.” Jack looked relieved and then moved closer to Strike.

“Do you feel better now?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

“Good, because I asked for the biggest one.” Jack said as he handed over the small brown paper bag and Strike looked inside to find a chocolate brownie.

“Looks big enough to share.” Robin suggested with a cheeky smile and handed the tea to Strike as Jack’s eyes brightened at the possibility of getting some brownie.

_Definitely a Nancarrow_ , Strike thought to himself as Robin took a corner off the brownie for Jack and then another piece for herself.

“Oi, leave off.” Strike complained playfully.

“Or what?” Robin asked, an eyebrow quirked in defiance.

“Don’t worry uncle Stick, we can get more later.” Jack said with chocolate stained teeth and Strike smiled tiredly as he looked down at the darkly coloured tea in his no longer shaking hands.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
